Travel poems
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Stuart
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
A CUP of your potent "mountain dew,"
By the camp-fire's ruddy light;
Let us drink to a spirit as leal and true
As ever drew blade in fight,
And dashed on the foeman's lines of steel,
For God and his people's right.
Most Sweet it is
© William Wordsworth
. Most sweet it is with unuplifted eyes
To pace the ground, if path be there or none,
Written In Germany On One Of The Coldest Days Of The Century
© William Wordsworth
A PLAGUE on your languages, German and Norse!
Let me have the song of the kettle;
And the tongs and the poker, instead of that horse
That gallops away with such fury and force
On this dreary dull plate of black metal.
Sensation
© Arthur Rimbaud
On the blue summer evenings, I shall go down the paths,
Getting pricked by the corn, crushing the short grass :
In a dream I shall feel its coolness on my feet.
I shall let the wind bathe my bare head.
Crows At Washington
© John Hay
Slow flapping to the setting sun
By twos and threes, in wavering rows.
As twilight shadows dimly close,
The crows fly over Washington.
A Riverina Road
© Thomas William Heney
A land of camps where seldom is sojourning,
Where men like the dim fathers of our race
Halt for a time, and next day, unreturning,
Fare ever on apace.
Epipsychidion: Passages Of The Poem, Or Connected Therewith
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
To the oblivion whither I and thou,
All loving and all lovely, hasten now
With steps, ah, too unequal! may we meet
In one Elysium or one winding-sheet!
Horace, Epist. I, VII Imitation Of Horace To Lord Oxford
© Jonathan Swift
Harley, the nation's great support,
Returning home one day from court,
His mind with public cares possest,
All Europe's business in his breast,
The Feud: A Border Ballad
© Adam Lindsay Gordon
They sat by their wine in the tavern that night,
But not in good fellowship true:
The Rhenish was strong and the Burgundy bright,
And hotter the argument grew.
Admetus: To my friend, Ralph Waldo Emerson
© Emma Lazarus
He who could beard the lion in his lair,
To bind him for a girl, and tame the boar,
Sordello: Book the Sixth
© Robert Browning
The thought of Eglamor's least like a thought,
And yet a false one, was, "Man shrinks to nought
How We Beat The Favourite
© Adam Lindsay Gordon
A Lay of the Loamshire Hunt Cup
"Aye, squire," said Stevens, "they back him at evens;
The race is all over, bar shouting, they say;
The Clown ought to beat her; Dick Neville is sweeter
Than ever - he swears he can win all the way.
The Battling Days
© Henry Lawson
But the wild oats wave on their stormy path, and they speak of the hearts of men
I would sow a crop if I had my time in those hard old days again.
We travel first, or we go saloonon the planned-out trips we go,
With those who are neither rich nor poor, and we find that the life is slow;
Sleep
© George MacDonald
Oh! is it Death that comes
To have a foretaste of the whole?
To-night the planets and the stars
Will glimmer through my window-bars
But will not shine upon my soul!
